


Bad Moon on the Rise

by punkstealer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Chris Argent is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Peter Hale isn’t as crazy now, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Stetopher - Freeform, Stiles Feels, Stiles doesn’t want this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 20:10:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15347748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkstealer/pseuds/punkstealer
Summary: A bubble of hysteria is making its way up his throat and he knows if he lets it out then he’ll end up crying. How did he end up with two soulmates who are both sociopaths? Because of course it would be Mr. Argent who comes down next.Or where soulmates are a thing and Stiles is meant to be the insane werewolf who bit his best friend and the other one is a hunter born in a family that won’t stop killing.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles grew up learning about soulmates just like everybody else, through observing. Schools don’t teach about them until junior high, but it’s a topic the kids talk about since they learn to read. Stiles mainly watched his parents, both proudly displaying their soul words for everyone to see. While Stiles hid his underneath a leather cuff on each wrist. It wasn’t too usual for people to have more than one soulmate and Stiles didn’t want to be the butt of jokes more than he already was.

“Most people keep them covered until they meet the one,” Claudia giggled as she placed a gentle kiss to each of his wrists. “But you’re a lucky one, aren’t you? You have two!”

“But how?” A young Stiles asks as he tries to read the writing, but he can’t read yet.

“Simple. You have so much love to give.”

Claudia picked up the leather cuffs and placed them gently on his small wrists. She had always been a free spirit and talking so freely about soul words is something that’s looked down on, but she encouraged it in her home. Especially when it came to answering Stiles questions.

When he’s 9 he also loses faith in what soulmates represent, the first one in his grade to act so bitter toward them. He watched his mom get sicker and how the black words on his parents wrists began to turn grey. How his dad looks so tired and sad when his mom lashes out.

“So selfish.” She hissed in his face as she squeezed tightly against the words on Stiles. “You can’t be _normal_. Instead you have to keep wanting and taking!”

And yeah, he thought about that a lot when she locked him in the hallway closet. He’s not normal; too hyper and needy. Stiles doesn’t want to have a soulmate if it just means he’s going to annoy them, he doesn’t even want one of them. When his dad got home he heard Stiles crying from the locked closet. Stiles watched how much it killed him to put Claudia in the hospital after that.

Yeah.

Stiles doesn’t want soulmates. He keeps the leather cuffs securely on his wrists and refuses to show the to anyone, not even his best friend Scott.

-

“You must be Stiles.”

He can feel the words on his wrist burning from their hiding spot. Instead of answering he just clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes locked over Peter’s shoulder. Stiles didn’t want a soulmate to begin with and he certainly doesn’t want _this_ as a soulmate.

Stiles didn’t speak the whole time Peter had him. Ripping his hand free from Peter’s claws when he offers the teenager the bite. For a second Stiles thought about saying something, soulmates are supposed to cause miracles after all and maybe it could cure a psychotic werewolf, but one look into those raged filled eyes and Stiles knew. Peter is too far gone for it to matter. Claudia Stilinski had the same look near the end.

-

_“You must be Stiles.”_

He watches as the Molotov cocktail sets Peter ablaze, it’s silent for .7 seconds before the pain ignites inside of his own body. Stiles wants to pretend that he had a brave face, but he can feel the silent tears rolling down his face and at the end of the night Scott asks if he’s alright. He probably thinks Stiles is just upset that he took part in killing Peter, not that he couldn’t move due to pain from the soul bond. It may have only been a partial bond, but _fuck_. He wants Peter to take another breathe, to say something. Just do something so that the pain will stop.

_“You must be Stiles.”_

The pain doesn’t just stop. Instead it drags on for weeks and all of his clothes feel like they are made from wire scrubs. If Stiles looks really closely he can see the faint burns that encompass his being, his face and hands are the only thing mark free.

Late at night is the only time that Stiles lets himself feel the phantom fire dancing on his skin. He sheds his clothes, soul cuffs too, and doesn’t try to hide the pain. No one sees him curl up and cry into his pillow. Or watch him as the burning takes over until he falls unconscious. The night represents a curtain between him and the real world. The grief and pain is suffocating and he can’t imagine going on for much longer.

It’s a slow process, months and months, but eventually his clothes don’t feel like they are trying to scrape his skin off. His muscles don’t lock up from pain as often and he doesn’t black out every night. Stiles can still feel a faint stinging; however, it’s nothing compared to the all consuming pain that would lock his joints in place and refuse to let up. The gaping hole he feels in his chest never fades though. The phantom scars of losing a soulmate tear into his heart and he can’t imagine losing both of them.

-

_“You must be Stiles.”_

Gerard didn’t stay in the basement long, Stiles is only somewhat proud at having annoyed the old man away, but his goons stay. One of them holding Stiles back while the other one messes with the electricity that is running through Boyd and Erica; lowering the voltage before cranking it higher and higher.

“I wasn’t friends with them when they were human. What makes you think I care now?” Stiles scoffs, hoping that they can’t see through him.

Erica’s scream is cut short as the goon finally gives up with that angle. The man holding his arms behind his back shoves Stiles forward, he only stumbles a little bit thank you very much. He watches in mild curiosity as they tie his hands in front of him and secure him to a beam above them. The rope already rubbing his skin raw, but he ignores it in favor of leaning forward as far as he can and spitting on one of the goons. Stiles flashes a smile that shows too many teeth. The two men walk up the steps and leave the teenagers alone, flicking the lights off as they close the door.

“Stiles,” Erica gasps out.

“I’m fine.” The side of his face is tender from where Gerard smacked him a few times, but overall he’s fine. “What’s going on?”

Stiles tries to maneuver himself so that he can face the two werewolves that are behind him, but he just ends up scrapping his wrists more. He lets out an annoyed huff.

“Allison _shot_  us.”

“What?” Stiles yelps. He would probably flail his arms around if he could, because Allison. “Scott’s perfect Allison? There’s no way. I know there’s some bad blood with the whole murdering aunt thing, but this seems extreme.”

“Shut up.”

Stiles wants to protest, but Boyd’s urgent tone made him reconsider. Right now he’s completely at a disadvantage, because not only does he not have super hearing but he also can’t make out anything in the dark. For all he knows there could be some mythical creature forming right in front of him.

“Hey. Are vampires real?”

He can practically feel the glare Boyd is staring into the back of his head, but before anyone can reply the door is opened. The light is flicked on and it temporarily blinds Stiles. Whoever is walking down the stairs has an uneven gait and Stiles instantly knows it’s Gerard.

Joy.

He’s still blinking, trying to get used to light faster, when he hears Erica and Boyd make a noise of outrage. It only takes him another second for his eyes to adjust and…

“Holy shit!” Stiles tries to jump back from the small compact now pointing at him. “Hey now. You know I was just kidding about you needing to be put into a home, right?”

The bow lowers from his chest down to his left leg and before he has the chance to speak again Gerard pulls the trigger. Time seems to slow as Stiles watches in morbid fascination as the arrow jams through the outer side of his thigh. _It’s weird_ Stiles thinks, _I don’t feel it._

He can vaguely hear the snarls coming from behind him, but he can’t rake his eyes from his leg. The blood is staining the denim a black and he knows when it dries that it’s going to be stiff and uncomfortable. One second Stiles feels numb and the next second Gerard whacks his cane into the pierced leg; all the pain slams into his body at once and he’s suddenly left breathless. His one working leg gives out and he’s left dangling by his wrists.

Gerard walks closer to Stiles limp body and God does Stiles want to kick him. Wipe that smug ass smile off of his face. Gerard tosses the compact bow somewhere behind him and instead takes out a small knife from his pocket; the light seems to make the blade shine. With one quick motion he cuts through the rope keeping Stiles up and he’s left crumbling to the ground, hands and body contorting itself to try and protect his left leg.

“Stiles!”

He can hear Erica calling him, but he can’t focus on her. Instead he focuses down to his leg; his hands are wrapped around his thigh, bracketing the arrow in the middle, and watches as the blood oozes out. Stiles has to fight down the urge to throw up and mentally curses the whole Argent family. How is this his life?

“Shut up, mutt!” Gerard hisses from between clenched teeth. “You were supposed to be a message, Stiles, but I think this could be a lesson for you as well.”

Stiles only has enough time to look up before a boot connects with his face. Black spots dance around his vision and he’s not too if he’s going to be able to stay awake. In the background he can fairly hear Boyd and Erica growling, but it quickly turns into muffled screams and Stiles wonders if the goons are back.

By the time Stiles manages to pry open his eyes again Gerard is gone and his whole body feels like one big ache. The lights are left on this time, Stiles thinks this is an important clue but can’t think of why. His thoughts seem sluggish; his thigh is still screaming in pain and the arrow is still there, so he counts that as a good thing. He wants to talk, to see if Erica and Boyd are alright, but his tongue feels heavy and too big for his mouth.

Stiles can barely hear the door freak open again and he wants to let out a yell of frustration, but only manages a pathetic groan.

**“What the hell is this?”**

It feels like a bucket of cold water was just thrown on him at the same time that his wrist begins to burn in a familiar way. A bubble of hysteria is making its way up his throat and he knows if he lets it out then he’ll end up crying. How did he end up with two soulmates who are both sociopaths? Because of course it would be Mr. Argent who comes down next.

_“You must be Stiles.”_

_“What the hell is this?”_

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It’s only been a few, long and bed confiding, days before Stiles is ready to start climbing up the walls. Each day his dad checking up on him in the morning, with pain medication in hand, and then continues to peek inside Stiles’ room every half hour. Or he thinks it’s every 30 minutes; the pain medication makes everything feel weird and he loses time.

Every night, once his dad turns into the sheriff, Erica will slide open his window and crawl into bed with him. She only forced him to be the little spoon on the first night. Boyd shows up sometime after Stiles falls asleep and keeping watch to make sure his pack stays safe.

The point being that Stiles is officially over being bored.

“Dad, don’t worry.” Stiles grabs blindly for a shirt with his cell phone tucked between his shoulder and chin. “Scott’s going to come and get me. Plus, Melissa is going to be there all night!”

“I don’t think this is a good idea-”

“Come on,” He whines into the phone as Erica manhandles the red flannel onto him. “We are going to do homework! What’s the worst that can happen? Don’t answer that. Melissa will keep an eye on us and have her ‘in case of Stiles’ bag at hand.”

Erica snorts at all of his blatant lies. Stiles can hear his dad sigh and shuffle some papers around. The sheriff hates paperwork and Stiles can practically see his dad looking at the stacks of paper in disdain.

“Make sure to take your meds, okay? And give them to Melissa!”

He ends the phone call and tosses himself back down onto his bed, he may be bored as hell but his leg is already aching from standing too long. Erica gives a huff of irritation as she tosses his zip-up hoodie onto his face.

“Are you ready to go or what?”

Even though there is a hard edge in her voice Stiles can see the softness of her gaze; he can see her lips turned down in the corners and how her eyebrows are furrowed together in concern. He just gives her a cheeky grin accompanied with a thumbs up.

“Help me up?” Stiles raises his arms above her head with an exaggerated pout.

She rolls her eyes at his childish behavior, but complied with his demands. Besides, Boyd is waiting outside in the car still so it’s not like she could just let Stiles fend for himself. Boyd would be up here in a second.

“Come on, you big baby.”

Stiles tosses an arm around her shoulder, not caring about holding any of his own weight, and lets Erica wrap an arm securely around his waist. The stairs aren’t as much of a hassle as Stiles thought they would be and he can’t help beaming down to the werewolf helping him. Sure, they aren’t close, but he’s not going to lie and say that having her break in at night hasn’t helped him sleep.

“Oh wow.” Stiles whistles as he takes in the sight of Derek’s car. “He let you take this?”

Boyd steps out of the car and lets Erica slip into the back seat while he takes over to gently lower him into the empty passenger seat.

“More like… we liberated it.” She leans forward so that her head is poking between the two teenagers in front. A wolffish grin is on her lips before she leans closer and places a kiss to Stiles cheek; guaranteed leaving a ring of lipstick on him.

“So what’s this really about?” He raises an eyebrow over to Erica then Boyd when she doesn’t respond.

“Derek’s orders.”

“Oh.” Stiles shifts uncontrollably and lets his fingers tap a beat onto the armrest. “Why?”

“Peter didn’t think it was smart to let Argent just get away and Derek agreed.”

Stiles feels like his brain just crashed and got the screen of death. His hear squeezes painfully in his chest, but it’s easy to ignore now; it’s not as sharp as it used to be when he would hear his soulmates name.

“Peter?” Stiles barely manages to get the name out.

“Yeah, remember?” Erica furrows her brows. “He just showed back up after we got Jackson back into a real boy.”

Stiles vaguely remembers Erica crawling through his window that ~~night~~  early morning. He had still been pretty high from the drugs the hospital gave him, but he recalls her pressing herself against his back. She had been whispering something to him; however, he’d been too far gone in his own head. The pain of knowing he’d never have a soulmate connection had been a heavy weight on his chest and he felt like with each breathe that the weight was crushing his chest. Stiles can’t remember the words that were whispered to him, but he remembers the tears they both spilled.

So he just nods his head. Not that he is really paying attention anymore, focusing too much on trying to process this information. Peter is alive, and as much as he wasn’t to deny it he can’t, Stiles’ heart speeds up at the idea of seeing him again. How the hell did Peter manage to live? There’s no way. Stiles set him on fire then Derek slit his throat. Holy shit. Peter is alive and he’ll remember how Stiles burned him for a second time. _Holy fuc-_

“What does that have to do with me?”

Stiles cocks his head to the side as Boyd throws the car into park. He hadn’t even realized they made it to Derek’s.

“Your Pack. We protect each other.”

Erica grins at him, flashing her teeth at him, before hopping out of the car and rushing to the passenger door. The trek up to Derek’s floor is a lot more draining than the stairs at Stiles’ house. He only felt grateful that neither wolf had tried to rush him or just pick him up. He has some dignity after all, dammit.

Stiles only hesitates for a couple of seconds once they reach Derek’s door; he could feel his heart trying to beat out of his chest.

He shoves the door open. “Helloooo, Alpha o’ Alpha!”

“Stiles.” Derek’s eyebrows did their angry thing as his eyes track the bruises that are scattered on Stiles’ face.

“Ha. You missed me.”

Stiles grunts as Erica finally drops his arm and pushes him onto the couch. He can feel his muscles slowly relax into the cushions once he notices the absence of a certain Creeper Wolf. The two Betas fall into the open seats on each side of Stiles.

He’s totally got this. There’s no reason for him to be so worked up.

“Why is that one still human? He’d make a magnificent wolf, Nephew.”

Stiles whips his head around to look at the door, only slightly concerned about giving himself whiplash, and sees Peter standing in the doorway. His arms crossed as he leans against the frame and a smug smirk curling his lips in a truly sinful way. Peter’s blue eyes lock with Stiles own brown ones and he feels like he can finally breathe. The weight that’s been crushing his chest is finally gone.

He totally doesn’t have this.

-

Stiles managers to avoid going back to Derek’s loft for all of two days before he’s kidnapped by Erica… again.

“But whyyyyyy?” Stiles whines as he lays spread eagle on the ground. A couch pillow is shoved under his leg to keep it propped up.

“Stiles, shut up.”

He lifts his head off the ground and stares up Derek. “Or what? Are you going to rip my throat out with your teeth? I’m so scared.”

Derek has his mouth open, words on the tip of his tongue, but he turns to the door and squares his shoulders.

“My my,” Stiles didn’t even try to muffle his annoyed groan as Peter comes through the door. “Have you two started the foreplay without me? For the record, I make a much better big, bad wolf.”

Peter’s grin had a hint of fang showing and Stiles can’t even pretend that it didn’t go straight to his dick, because it totally did. Before Stiles is even done drinking in Peter a second body steps into the doorway. Stiles can feel his mouth drop open, it there’s nothing he can really do about it. He’s lost all functions of his body at this point, because having both of his soulmates so close to him is making it too hard to think. The blood coursing through his body suddenly feels too hot; it’s more like lava and it’s burning him from the inside out.

He an feel the phantom hand on the back of his neck and on his wrist where Peter grabbed him on Prom night. Both handlings tingling as he remembers Chris untying him from the basement ceiling. Each touch had been fleeting in the moment, but it was the only interactions that he’s had with either of them. And now they are both here, too close. Stiles has always been hyperaware of things going on near him, but now it feels like his body shut down and could only focus on the two men making their way into the room.

“What’s he doing here?” Issac spit out as Peter and Chris sat on the couch.

“Christopher here,” Peter places a hand on his shoulder and Stiles can see his claws digging into Chris’ shoulder. “Has decided to volunteer some information regarding the missing Argent. Making amends or some nonsense.”

Chris clenches his teeth and shoots a withering glare over to the other male, who has a shit eating grin. Stiles would almost say it’s like friendly banter.

Holy fuck.

Stiles mind comes to a screeching halt as he watches the two men interact. If they are his soulmates, then they are soulmates with each other as well. How Stiles didn’t put that together before is beyond him.

“Gerard has a few cabins in the woods,” Chris takes out a folded map and lays it on the coffee table. “I figured he would have died before reaching any of them, but no body has shown up yet.”

Stiles tries to crane his head up farther to get a glance at the map, but just ends up hurting himself. So he shoves himself up into a sitting potion, only jostling his leg a little bit; even with covering up the small wince he can still see the Betas in the room eyeing him. Boyd is already up and grabbing Stiles’ prescription from the kitchen while Erica scoots her water on the coffee table closer to him.

“Stiles, you’re staying here.”

“No shit, Derek. You want me to hobble around while trying to break into some hunter’s torture lairs?”

Derek punches his eyebrows closer together and lets out a warning growl. “Boyd, Erica, and Issac will come with me.”

“What about me, Nephew?”

It’s an awkward moment while Derek eyes over Peter, who in turn holds his hands up in a placating manner. Stiles can see the moment that the Betas tense up and he’s wondering how far he can make it before he gets caught in the werewolf war that’s about to go down. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Chris move to place his hand behind his back. Derek seems to notice the movement as well and steps away from his uncle.

“You’ll stay here with Stiles.” Derek’s eyes flash their Alpha red and Peter tilts his head, just a fraction, in submission.

“Wait what?” Stiles arms flail around him as he sputters. “Why?”

“Because,” Derek picks up the map and folds it back up to fit into his pocket. “You’re staying here until this is done.”

Erica calling him Pack flashes through his head and he can feel the giddiness racing through his body. “But why can’t Scott do it or something? Anything else!”

“Scott’s been helping Allison… process… this whole thing with Gerard. Besides,” Derek gives a humorless grin as he puts his leather jacket on. “Peter’s still feeling a bit worn out from his visit to Hell. Chris here follows the code, so I’m sure he’ll have no problem staying to make sure Peter plays nice.”

This is the most Stiles has heard Derek talk and he can’t even pretend to be surprised that it’s to make a threat. He just lets out a loud groan and falls onto his back. This is his life. He’s doomed to be near his soulmates that he never wanted. One of them died and still came back to make his life hell.

“Sorry, Batman!” Erica leans down and kisses his forehead. “We’ll be back soon!”

Boyd drops a pill onto Stiles chest and just gives him a pointed look, as if Stiles wouldn’t take his pain medication. Pshhhh. He would never do that. Issac sort of just stands there, not that Stiles really cares. Issac is a douchebag with too many scarves.

Once the three are alone all Stiles can do is pray for a quick death. Preferably right now.

“So tell me,” Peter leans over the coffee table to stare down at the teenager on the floor; his eyebrow raised, but Stiles can see the mocking smile beginning to form on his face. “What sort of kinks were you and my dear nephew talking about when I came in?”

Stiles groans again and shoves the Percocet into his mouth. A drug induced sleep isn’t as good as death, but it’ll do for now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you’re enjoying it so far!   
> Leave a comment, kudos, or subscribe.   
> Again, come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://www.allteenwolf-shipits.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I wanted to post earlier, but I was evacuated from my home for awhile and I couldn't seem to focus on writing this. So here it is now!

“- know that.”

Stiles opens his eyes, it may take longer than he’s willing to admit, but everything is still hazy around the edges. The soft couch cushions are practically reaching out and dragging him back to dreamland; that thought sends a spike of adrenaline through him and he struggles to sit up. He knows he fell asleep on the floor. With wide eyes he looks around the room.

“Ignorance doesn’t look good on you, Christopher… Now why are you awake so soon?”

He looks behind the couch to see Peter and Chris crowding each other; Chris’ jaw clenching and relaxing as he glares at the werewolf. Stiles snorts, because Peter gives him the same feeling. Stiles lets his gaze lazily wander back to the empty spot on the floor then back at the pair. He’s sure his eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, but he’s still feeling off from the medication.

“Ah.” Peter stalks forward and rests a hand on his shoulder. “I moved you. Now sleep.”

 Stiles wants to argue, but the words seem to do the trick and his eyes are sliding back shut before he even finishes flopping back down. The world is still spinning and it’s making Stiles feel a little nauseated, but the hand on his shoulder is a comfortable presence that feels like it’s keeping him still.

 “Peter, you can’t be-”

 The sounds fade out as he slips back into unconsciousness. He’ll worry about the feeling of Peter’s hand later.

 -

It’s easy to shove that night into the back of his head and bury it. He just wants to forget about Peter and Chris, even if being near them is like putting a soothing balm against his frazzled nerves. He won’t allow himself to dream about it, because he’s a realist and knows that it won’t end well for himself.

 -

It takes another week before Stiles is allowed to actually take care of himself, there may have been some delays that are entirely **not** his fault no matter what Issac says, and this is the first time Stiles gets to drive himself over to the loft. Every night Erica and Boyd have been picking him up to take him to, what Stiles is calling, the Pack Cuddles. With no luck finding Gerard it’s put all of them on edge and having the whole Pack in one place has helped ease the tension. 

Peter only ever stays for the first few minutes then melts into the shadows. Stiles wants to say that he feels better when Peter leaves, but instead it feels like a part of him is leaving.

Soulmates are such a pain.

“Stiles!” As soon as he enters the loft he has an arm full of giggling Erica. She plants a kiss on his cheek, leaving an impressive red mark. “We’re celebrating!”

“What’s the occasion?”

“What not the occasion, is the real question.”

She shoves a beer into his hand and drags him further into the room. Derek is in the only chair that has the best view of the living room, Boyd and Isaac are on the couch, each holding a red solo cup, and talking to each other. That’s when noticed the smell.

“I though you guys couldn’t get drunk?”

Erica giggles and releases his shirt sleeve. “Lydia was messing with the recipe she used at her party. Jackson’s been working hard with Derek, so she thought this would be a good way for us all to bond and shit.”

Stiles nods his head as he sees Lydia sitting on Jackson’s lap on the second couch. He remembers Erica mentioning Jackson coming over, apparently not willing to have another Kanima, and joining the Pack. Stiles can’t say that he’s really all that excited to have Jackson around, but whatever. He is, however, surprised to see Lydia here; casting a quick glance around he can’t see Peter and maybe that’s why Lydia agreed to come. Maybe she just needed a place to feel normal again and who is he to judge if that place is surrounded by werewolves.

“Stiles,” Erica calls out as she sits on Boyd’s lap and pats the empty seat beside them. “Come tell these losers we are watching Jessica Jones.”

He grins and plops down. “She’s right. There’s too much testosterone here so we need to watch it.”

Erica cheers as Isaac lets out a groan. He lets himself relax into the cushion and hide his smile with a sip of his beer.

“That’s right! Bros before hoes!” Erica taps her cup against Stiles’ in a victory cheer.

By the time the group finishes the first two episodes Stiles is pleasantly buzzed, along with the other teenagers, and it takes him longer than it should to realize why he feels so _good,_ so tranquil.

Derek is the first one to look toward the door, then the Pack, and finally Jackson. Stiles doesn’t even notice the tension that quickly swallowed the whole room.

“Ally!” Lydia is up and wrapping her in a tight hug as Scott and Chris step in behind her.

Scott has a dopey grin on his face, eyes never leaving Allison, and Chris has his bitch face on. The glorious resting bitch face that stokes wants to reach and touch that glorious scruff that looks like it’s been neglected. _And wow,_ Stiles thinks. _I’m more drunk than I thought._

Lydia drags Allison, and Scott by extension, to were she’s sitting and excitedly chatters away. Derek doesn’t even try to pretend like he’s not watching Chris, who in turn stayed near the door, but the rest of the Pack does a good job at ignoring the rising tension in the room. Stiles makes a show of standing up and grabbing his empty beer.

“Need another?” Stiles nods his head to Erica’s cup.

She smiles and passes it up to his waiting hands, because leaving the room _right now_ seems like the best idea ever. He can feel Chris’ eyes on his retreating form, but no one makes a move to stop him. Once Stiles is in the kitten he can feel his shoulders drop, from relief or disappointment he’s not sure, but he makes quick work of dropping the old bottle in the recycling and grabbing a new one from the fridge. He also takes the judge of pink punch, shivering as he recalls his hallucination after drinking it.

He places his hands on the counter and lets his head thump against the wooden pantries. Everything is just to… _too much_ for him right now. He can’t escape the dreams he has were he’s still locked away with Gerard standing over him or get away from the pain that still shoots up his leg. Now even Derek’s loft will be a reminder of what he can’t have. Stiles raises the bottle to his lips and manages to get a few sips on before a hand reaches out and snags it away.

“What the fu-”

He cuts himself off as he turns to see Peter leaning his hip against the counter, bottle dangling from long fingers, and a smirk that makes Stiles’ heart skip a beat. From the way that Peter’s lips turn up higher Stiles knows that he heard it.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

Stiles sends a glare at the older man and silently curses his luck. Peter wasn’t even here earlier! Lydia definitely wouldn’t have agreed to come if she knew Peter would show up.

Instead of answering, because fuck that soulmate shit, Stiles reaches over and takes Erica’s filled cup with him as he walks backwards toward the door. It only takes Stiles a split second to decide what to do next.

Which is to bring the full cup up to his mouth and chug the drink. Peter doesn’t come forward, like Stiles has been predicting, but a hand reaches from behind him to yank the drink away. Spinning around he comes face to ~~a nice, solid chest~~ face with Chris. Blue eyes are sparkling with amusement, but he keeps his face hard as he looks between Stiles and Peter.

“That’s probably enough for you.” He reaches out to straighten up Stiles’ tilting body.

“Et tu, Brute?” Stiles gasps out, feeling scandalized.

Chris’s eyes widen and Stiles can hear Peter let out a throaty chuckle, but it doesn’t seem to click for Stiles.

Until it does.

“Oh no.” Stiles moans, horrified, looking between both men. He can feel his heart take off and it’s suddenly hard to breathe. Like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room.

“Stiles?” Scott is suddenly there and shoving Chris out of the way. “You okay, man?”

Oh, god. He forgot about Scott. He’s going to hate Stiles for this.

“Stiles, can you hear me?” Scott places a warm hand on his shoulder.

How can he be his best friend’s girlfriend’s **dad’s** soulmate? Oh man. This is all bad, because Chris knows. And all the werewolves can hear what’s happening, but that doesn’t seem to stop the words that want to break free from his mouth.

“Oh, god. I can’t be your father-in-law.”

Everything comes to a screeching halt. Scott’s hands dropped from his shoulders and Chris is still looking at Stiles, he’ll feel victorious about being able to shock him later, Peter is still fucking _cackling_ behind him. Stiles spins around and points an accusing finger at the man.

“You knew!”

“Wait,” Scott is grasping at him and spinning him back around. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, god.” Stiles drops his head against his best friend’s shoulder. “I’m ready for the sweet embrace of death, Scottie.”

Stiles still feels too drunk to function, but he knows the buzzing under his skin isn’t from all the alcohol.

Fucking.

Soulmates.


	4. Chapter 4

“I think this is a conversation you should have tomorrow.” Derek steps in, his eyes flickering to the red cup and back up.

“Of course nephew,” Peter has his eyes narrowed at him, but decides against arguing. “It seems Christopher needs time to process this as well.”

Stiles wants to roll his eyes and call Peter out for his childish tone, but he can’t make himself talk yet. His heart is still pounding away in his chest and his head feels like it’s stuffed with too much cotton; a normal feeling he gets after a panic attack.

“We’ll come by in the morning.”

“Dad, you can’t be serious!”

Chris finally tears his gaze away from Stiles, only to look over at Peter and nod. “Let’s go, Allison.”

“Dad…”

Chris walks by the surrounding group of teenagers and grabs onto Allison’s arm. He gently steers her from the room, Peter following, and Stiles can hear her interrogating the pair as they march her out of the apartment.

“Dude,” Stiles looks up at Scott and gives a helpless shrug. “You have shitty luck.”

Stiles phone vibrates from his pocket and when he takes it out it’s a text from an unknown number.

_‘Make sure to drink water, Sweetheart ;)’_

The laugh the Stiles forces out sounds manic, even to his own ears.

  
-

“Coward.”

Stiles glares at Derek’s retreating form; Scott pops his head back into the living room and gives an ‘encouraging’ thumbs up accompanied with a trademark blinding smile. Scott has been the only one who didn’t try to push him into talking last night and instead let Stiles get hammered; that’s a true friend.

Although, the hangover he’s currently nursing would disagree. Chris and Peter showed up at an ungodly hour with coffee and Derek decided it was time to drive the rest of the pack home. Leaving Stiles sitting, alone, with his soulmates in the living room. He’s clutching the coffee that they brought for him and is looking anywhere except for them.

“Stiles,” Chris rubs a hand down his face before locking his long fingers together and resting his chin on the entwined digits. “Are you okay with this?”

“Are you referring to us, Christopher?”

Stiles glances at them long enough to see Peter giving Chris an incredulous look; Stiles looks away when Chris’ blue eyes try to meet his.

He shrugs.

“If you can shove your way into the supernatural world then I’d expect you to be able to use your words, like a big boy, and discuss this with us.”

“What the _hell_ do you want me to say? I’ve never wanted a soulmate and now here you guys are! I literally had a hand in _killing_ you, Peter. And that hurt, okay? It hurt for a long fucking time and then Chris shows up while I’m getting my ass kicked by some psychotic, geriatric. Now you’re both here and I’m here… and what do you want from me?”

Stiles crosses his arms over his chest and tries his best not to look petulant, judging from the look Peter is giving him he’s not succeeding, so he focuses his gaze down to the coffees on the table. Sipping at the, basically, caffeinated tar helped his headache, but he can feel it returning full force now.

“How did you even know?” Stiles asks the overly smug looking Peter.

“Darling,” Peter shoves Chris over in order to lean closer toward Stiles. “You have no idea, do you?”

“No idea about _what_?”

“You talk in your sleep.”

“ _What_?”

This time Chris shoves Peter away and takes over talking, “The other night when you fell asleep on the floor, Peter moved you to the couch and you said something to him.”

“How is that even fair?” He questions as he looks between the two men. “I mean, that’s not even a conscious thing!”

“How does Peter sprout fangs and PMS once a month?”

“I think we’ve gone off topic. Don’t you agree, _Christopher_?”

Chris smiles over at Stiles and then clears his throat. “Of course. Whatever you say.”

Peter let’s out a huff and turns his piercing gaze toward Stiles again. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything in regards to the smile.

“I think we need to cover the basics before anything can move forward.”

“Who would have thought you’d be the rational one here, Creeperwolf.”

“Imagine how you must be acting in order for me to be the voice of reason, darling.”

Stiles can feel heat rushing to his cheeks and forming a blush. And not a cute little blush, but rather the red blotches that’s always made him embarrassed.

“Basics, yeah.” He clears his throat as he looks away again. “I have your marks you guys have mine, but…”

Stiles makes wild hand gestures between Chris and Peter with an expected look on his face. He already knows the answer, but he needs to hear it. Chris arches a brow as he watches Stiles hands fly around, if he focuses more on Stiles’ fingers rather than the actual movement then Peter is the only one to notice.

“We have each other’s words too.”

“So what now?” Stiles asks as he shrugs his shoulders again.

“Now,” Peter stands and makes his way toward one of the free spots beside Stiles. “Chris and I had a long talk last night. We find you, oddly, attractive-”

“ _Oddly!?_ ”

“And I can smell that you find us….appealing. So it’s settled.”

“I’m _seventeen_!”

“Peter!”

Stiles’ eyes are wide as he looks over at Chris for help; his own eyes are narrowed as he glares over at Peter. And Peter doesn’t even look phased, instead he seems pleased as he lays his arm on the back of the couch behind Stiles.

“I’m just being honest, sweetheart.”

“Stiles,” Chris makes his way over and sits himself on the edge of the coffee table so that he’s sitting directly in front of him. “Nothing is going to happen between anyone here unless we talk about it, alright? I know this is a bit overwhelming right now so let’s just talk. Do you have any questions for us?”

Stiles bites his lip as he looks between the two men. He has a hundred different questions racing through his head, but everything is moving too fast for him concentrate on.

“Can I see them?”

Chris doesn’t seem phased as he pulls up the end of his shirt, exposing the black writing on his wrist. He wonders what the other wrist says, but refrains from asking. Peter has a predatory grin as he pulls his arm from around the couch and places it in front of Stiles. With shaking fingers Stiles gingerly reaches out and bunches up the fabric hiding Peter’s words.

“Oh no.” Stiles gasps out as he reads them. “Why am I like this?”

Stiles can feel his face flushing again, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

**Does this mean Derek has to call me uncle too?**

He brings his hands up to hide in them as Peter and Chris both begin to laugh. If he were in any other situation he’d take the time to admire their laughs; Peter’s is softer, it he doesn’t have any shame in laughing out loud while Chris’ is deeper and more of a chuckle than a full on laugh.

Curse these men.

“What could you guys possibly want with me after _that_?”

Peter keeps chuckling as Chris grabs Stiles’ hands and pull them away from his face. He rubs his thumbs across Stiles pulse point in a soothing manner. “I think it would be best that you go home and process all of this. Then you decide were we do from here. Peter and I will take what you’re willing to give, understand?”

“And if you decide that you need a distraction, well, you already have my number.”

Chris fondly rolls his eyes at Peter’s antics. The soft looks on their faces mixed with the warm feeling of Chris’ fingers circling his wrists makes Stiles relax into Peter’s side. The bond that already formed between them is pulsating and lulling them into a sense of security; something they each feel and subconsciously lean toward each other for.

“Wait, does Derek know what is says?” Stiles eyes flick from Peter’s wrist to his eyes.

“Of course. I used to tease him that it would be one of his friends, but this is much, _much_ better.”

“Oh no.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’re the one who has to tell the Sheriff.”

“Oh, god no.”

Stiles groans and leans back further into the couch. Chris is a gentleman and hides his smile while Peter is a dirty, no good asshole who fucking _cackles_ at Stiles misery. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no idea where this story is going. Come let me know at my [Tumblr](http://www.allteenwolf-shipits.tumblr.com) what you’d like to see happen. I also take prompts.

**Author's Note:**

> Come ask me stuff on [Tumblr](http://www.allteenwolf-shipits.tumblr.com)


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